The Flock Goes To Therapy
by Elle Tarien
Summary: Max and the flock go to therapy? Is this therapist crazy? What is the Voice exactly? Who does Max really think she is? Read and find out.


**Okay so this is my first fanfiction. I thought of it about a year ago and wrote it down, and now I'm posting it. I have no idea what real therapy is like, this is just what I thought it would be like in this situation. I accept constructive critisism and compliments alike :)**

**(DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. All characters belong to the very clever, and very awsome James Patterson, so uh... yea. Read on.)**

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><p>"So Maximum, do you feel like yourself today?" I rubbed my temples. This was the worst therapist that I had ever seen! Not that I've been to a lot of therapists; it's just a feeling that I got.<p>

"No, I feel like Fang today. Oh and yesterday I felt like Nudge. And last week I woke up in the morning feeling like P-Diddy." I heard the flock chuckle. Even Fang gave a small smirk. Score! I watched as Dr. I Own a Thousand Cats Named Mr. Fluffers started writing something in his notebook, "Whoa, You're not actually writing that down right?" It was completely obvious that I was joking! It's called sarcasm!

"Well, Maximum," He refused to call me Max, "Despite the sarcastic tone; it is possible that your subconscious may have tendencies to want to be someone else most often due do certain insecurities." My mouth dropped open, and looked at Fang, my second in command, for help, but he just gave me one of his looks, '_So how does it feel to subconsciously be me?'_ I decided to be the mature one, and when the therapy guy wasn't looking I stuck my tongue out at Fang. He just shook his head.

"Ok, now Maximum, have you ever had anything odd happen to you in your life?" I thought about it for a moment. Hmm, well I have wings, I've lived in a dog cage for most life being poked and prodded, I fought doglike creatures, also known as Erasers, I found out that one of the Erasers was my brother after I killed him and he then came back to life. I went to school for a while, and found out that my teachers were complete psycho's, I have a voice that's not mine in my head, I love Fang(Arrg, no I don't!) etc.

"Nope nothin' odd here." I leaned back in my much too small, very uncomfortable wooden chair that I was forced, since Nudge automatically took up the couch, lying down on it like the people in those sappy movies.

He finished writing in his, "_What Wrong With Maximum Book" _and looked at me,"Alright, we'll get more from you next session. In the meantime pay attention to what your insides are telling you, and report to me next session." Listen to my insides? Does that mean if my spleen start's talking to me than I should talk back to it? Hmm, maybe that's what my Voice is, my spleen talking to me.

'_Max, wouldn't you know if I was your spleen talking to you?' _Hey look who joined the party!

'_I don't know! I've never had my inside's talk to me! How do I know you're really a person, or microchip or whatever_?' I said to him- it- me- whatever The Voice was.

No answer. Great. Notice the sarcasm people! Ladies' and gentleman, The Mysterious Voice!

The therapist then moved on to Nudge. All of us groaned-well not Fang, but he was giving off serious vibes. I made myself as comfortable as winged kid in a small box sitting in a stupid kindergarten chair could, since I had heard Nudge practicing what she was going to say the night mom told us we were coming to therapy. The therapist asked questions, and Nudge came up with never ending story's for almost all of them. And we couldn't even cover up her mouth without the therapist getting on to us! Believe me I tried. After a while I kind of zoned out, but I swear I heard something about Miley Cyrus and unicorns.

_Finally,_ Flock Therapy Session was over, and we bolted out as fast as we could, dragging Nudge along with us. My mom was waiting for us in the parking lot. Unfortunately we were all forced to crowd in, me calling shotgun, since I'm the leader.

"So how was your first session?" She asked starting the car.

"Max feels like Fang." Iggy said snickering. Mom looked at us through the review mirror alarmed.

"It was a joke! How was I supposed to know that he would take it so seriously? What does he watch when he gets home? The history on dry wall?" I ranted. "I mean really, I bet the most exciting thing he has ever seen is a mouse eating cheese."

"Well I'm sorry you feel that way about my good friend Dr. Bradley Shusterman." Mom said. So that's his name.

"Oh, he's your- friend… well… no. That was terrible, I'm sorry, but it's true." Sometimes you had to tell the truth, no matter how much it hurt.

My mom gave me a sympathetic glance, "I'm sorry Max, but you need to go, there is no telling what kind of trauma's you have experienced throughout your life, and I think that if you really take time to treat this seriously than the therapy can really help, I promise. Do for me please?" Alright so before you go getting any ideas, I'm not weak. There are very few people that I would give into, I could probably could those peoples on my fingers, Dr. Martinez-my mom for all intents and purposes- just happens to be one of those people. I sighed, laying my head against the window. From now on, Thursdays were going to suck.


End file.
